


I Gotta Hear From Your Mouth

by anomalously



Series: Tr[eat] Your Boyfriend Right [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Edgeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 01:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15353535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalously/pseuds/anomalously
Summary: It’s so quiet. Just Ian’s breathing, his gasps and whines, his strained chuckles of want when Mickey sends one of his smirks up at him -the dark and sexy smirks, the knowing ones. They don’t speak though, don’t need to.





	I Gotta Hear From Your Mouth

Mickey’s mouth was lazy though focused. Ian gripped the sheets tightly in his fists, watching the other man trail lips and tongue over his hip, edging closer to where he wanted to go. His breath caught in his throat, watching blue eyes move to look up at him, those dark lashes framing perfect, heavy lidded and fucked out. Yes. Ian’s mouth watered. 

Words wouldn’t stitch together, hadn’t been since he woke up to a mouth on his throat, and a hand cupping his jaw. Ian let out a pained sounding moan, hips rocking upwards, chasing a full mouth, a tattooed hand skimming up the opposite thigh of the one Mickey was leaning on. Short bursts of air rushed from Ian’s mouth, head spinning.

Mickey’s been at this for nearly ten minutes, ghosting lips and hot breath over the leaking head of Ian’s cock, sucking soft marks into his hips, then lower and lower… but not as low as Ian wished he’d go. Ian’s either about to lose his mind or come, whichever happens first.

It’s so quiet. Just Ian’s breathing, his gasps and whines, his strained chuckles of want when Mickey sends one of his smirks up at him -the dark and sexy smirks, the knowing ones. They don’t speak though, don’t need to. Which is unlike them, but for right now it’s perfect because if Mickey started running his mouth while doing this to him, Ian was never going to make it out of this bed alive.

Mickey liked to do that when he was being merciless. Talked to Ian while teasing him like this. He said the filthiest things against Ian’s skin, against his ear, hot and wet against his cock. Yeah, Ian couldn’t take that right now. He wouldn’t survive.

A scrape of teeth against his inner thigh has Ian letting out a long shuddering sound, letting his leg push out to give Mickey more room. Mickey’s breath is so warm against his skin, heavy but measured like he’s working overtime to keep himself in check. Ian knows Mickey’s getting off on this, he sees the way Mickey’s hips rock down against the bed under him; Ian wonders who’s going to come first at this point. Probably should have made some kind of bet.

Ian bites his lip hard, letting go of the sheets, his hands coming up to cover his face in desperation. A slow wet tongue sliding against his skin there after the scrape of teeth, tongue trailing higher and higher to just below where he could go. Ian holds his breath while he keeps his face covered, eyes slipping closed, chin pushing up towards the ceiling of their bedroom. He exhales slow. 

He lets his hands uncover his face when he feels one of Mickey’s hands slide up the middle of his abdomen, feels familiar heated breath bleed over his aching cock. Mickey’s looking up at him like he’s got a secret, and it makes Ian prop himself up on his elbow. He wants to see everything, and Mickey wants him to watch, doesn’t want his face covered like that. The brunette likes that, likes when Ian watches him.

Ian’s other hand is moving towards Mickey’s face, his long fingers brushing over full open lips. Pink tongue slips out to taste his pointer and middle fingers; brings him into a warm mouth all slow, taking them deep. Mickey doesn’t look away. Ian doesn’t look away. Mickey sucks soft, hums softer. Fuck.

He mouths the word please; no sound comes out, and his lips barely move, but it’s what Ian does nonetheless. Please. Mickey slips his tongue between Ian’s fingers inside his mouth, pulling off slow. Ian’s panting, head spinning still. He slips his wettened fingers over Mickey’s perfect lips, circling them lazy, watching them disappear again when the brunette opened that perfect mouth again. Perfect. Please.

He’s so focused on Mickey blowing his fingers, he’s surprised by the hand that’s wrapping around his erection. Ian’s eyes roll back, and he can’t support himself anymore, gently pulling his fingers from the brunette’s mouth, he falls back against the bed and moans. He moans so loud, all drawn out, it’s probably an over-reaction to the simple soft touch, but given Ian’s state, is it really?

He can’t look. He can’t, or else it’s over. He’ll spill all over his stomach and will be too sensitive to keep going, to fully feel that mouth swallow him down. So he can’t look. He wants to. Badly. He  _ aches  _ to look.

He’s got to calm himself. Mickey’s just holding him, breath hot on the head of his dick, holding him careful but firm. Please. Please. Ian mouths it up at the ceiling, his brows creasing in agony that is really anything but. Please. His chest is tight and loose at the same time, ripped wide open but bundled tight. He’s pulled in every direction, and Mickey’s breath is closer, so much closer. Please.

“Please,” Ian forces the whisper out, barely gets it out. All breathy and full of need, he’s drowning in it beautifully. He’d be okay dying like this. That would be fine.

Mickey’s hand slides up Ian’s length; face presses into his hip; breath torn to pieces. Ian’s whole body jerks involuntarily, a dark noise spilling from his lips. There’s fireworks popping along his insides, and when Mickey slides his hand back down, Ian moans loud again. It pushes out of his mouth like a sob, broken and torn at the edges. Please.

Everything goes a little blurry when Mickey’s other hand is sliding back up his abdomen, but now to his chest; he moves seamlessly, effortlessly. Ian doesn’t have to look to know. He holds his breath. He waits. He even prays. 

Bare thumb glides over one of Ian’s nipples. Wet lips ghosting the very tip of his cock. Ian swallows hard, hums to keep himself in check, clenches his jaw. Please, this time. Please. Please. He can’t do another ten minutes, he really can’t. Mickey’s breath is heavy and needy against him, his hand planted firm in the middle of Ian’s chest while his other one flexes slightly around his dick. Please.

He almost comes when Mickey’s lips start drawing him in, Slow like honey in the fall; Ian’s body twitches on its own again, needing, wanting… he breathes like it’s the last oxygen left on earth.

Ian knew he wasn’t going to last long, but he holds out for as long as he can. He doesn’t look for as long as he can, for as long as Mickey’s going to let him get away with it. Warm wet lips are slipping further down his head, til it’s just the head sitting nice in Mickey’s mouth. Mickey waits. Exhales slow out of his nose. He’s patient still, just holding Ian there in his mouth.

Ian’s chest moves Mickey’s hand up and down deep. Please. Mickey rubs soft and slow against his sternum. He sucks soft, barely, just getting Ian’s attention. Look. Watch. 

Ian wets his lips before he nods and props himself back up so he can look. He moans in the back of his throat at the sight. Mickey’s pupils are blown open and focused heavily up at him, Ian’s cock tucked between his lips, stretching prettily. He looks so good. Too good. Ian wants to close his eyes, but he doesn’t. He watches. 

Mickey pulls off him slow, and immediately there’s a frustrated whine forming in Ian’s throat, but it dies when Mickey tilts his head to the side, wet mouth trails down one side of his length, then back up on the other side. Ian’s eyes roll; he shivers; his thighs tense and shake. Mickey breathes hard against him, and Ian sees the brunette’s hips rock down against the bed again. Ian wonders if Mickey’s going to get himself off while he’s doing this. Having Ian’s dick sliding in and out of his mouth does all sorts of amazing things to the brunette, gets him so riled up and needy for release.

Mickey Milkovich loves sucking cock. It used to be a secret.

Ian grabs onto Mickey’s hand that rests on his sternum. He holds it, watching Mickey lick a slow line up and then back down. Just drops his mouth open wide, tongue out, he keeps it lazy as he does, keeps it slow. Ian’s mouth hangs open; he wets his lips, but his mouth won’t close, and he’s panting like a goddamn dog. Please.

When Mickey finally gives Ian what he wants, his eyes just about cross, a deep low noise crawling out of his throat. Mickey sinks down slow, takes everything Ian has into his mouth. It’s warm and wet, and perfect inside Mickey’s mouth. Sucking soft, humming soft. Ian grips Mickey’s hand, tugging on it, bringing fingertips to his mouth to kiss and nip at tattooed fingers. He needs. He  _ needs  _ so bad.

Mickey sucks harder and moans longer when Ian lets his hand go, grabbing for dark hair instead. He’s not going to last long, he’s been at the edge since he woke up. Mickey pulls off slow, then drawn Ian back in deep, deep as he can. He can take it all, and Ian is honestly constantly amazed that he can. It’s a skill that Mickey flexes often, shows off, likes Ian to see his face when his mouth and throat are full. 

He’s beautiful always, but Mickey feels best like this.

So Ian watches for as long as he can, giving Mickey that. It’s hard to focus, and his eyes beg to slip closed, but he keeps them open, straight into blue, not looking away. Ian grips Mickey’s hair hard between his fingers, then lets go. Just once. Just enough to make the brunette growl low around him. Barely. Enough. Ian’s jaw drops. He lets out an unholy noise. 

Mickey pulls harder, and Ian’s beyond help. He nods quick, lets go of Mickey’s hair, lets the brunette shift and ready himself. Ian sees stars when he comes. His hips jerk as much as Mickey will allow, fucking up into that perfect mouth. He’s loud. He’s so loud, and he shakes from head to toe. Mickey looks up at him with grateful eyes, grateful and proud. If Ian could come again immediately, that would do it.

Catching his breath, Ian falls down against the bed again. Boneless. His hips and legs spasm and hum warmly. Though Mickey’s mouth is trailing up his stomach, Ian can still feel that warmth wrapped perfectly around his cock. God, he can still feel him. He’s everywhere. Inside and out, he’s everywhere.

Lips on his collarbone. Ian’s chest not moving  _ so  _ deeply with his breaths. Hands skimming his chest, tongue dragging against the crook of his neck. Ian lets his eyes flutter shut. He hums, body still humming. Feels like it won’t ever stop humming. Good.

Mickey kisses him deep, crawling fully on top of him, covering him. Ian slides his hands up Mickey’s thighs, scratching fingernails, kissing back just as deep, moaning from the taste of him on the brunette’s tongue. It’s kind of messy, kind of filthy, how they kiss sometimes. When they kiss like this. 

Ian loves it. He worked hard for these. Well worth the wait. Mickey kisses with his whole soul, he kisses with every part of him, quite literally puts his whole body into it as he moves against Ian. Mickey takes over, he demands. Ian gives him whatever he wants, whatever he needs, and he does so gladly and with fervor. 

Ian slips a hand between them, searching for Mickey, fingers slipping under the elastic of his boxers, searching, and… there.

Ian grins against Mickey’s mouth. Mickey grins back. Yes. God. It’s so incredibly hot, gets Ian off so much. Mickey hadn’t even touched himself, but he finished too. Ian wants to know when, wants to know what did it, what sent him fully over the edge. Wonders if it was when Ian hit the back of his throat for the third or fourth time. Wonders if it was when Mickey was blowing his fingers. Wonders if it was when Ian said please.

“Happy Birthday to me,” Ian whispered through his grin. His voice was scratchy and rough. 

Mickey nodded, kissing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
